#tw: death threats | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pareidoliaonthemove · 5 months ago

Text

X-20's Final Assignment

Surface Agent X-20 is replaced by a ‘more reliable’ agent. On his first mission as the mysterious new surface agent’s subordinate, X-20 encounters complications – and Titan has already warned him that he will not 'fix up' X-20’s mistakes anymore.

Whumptober 2024 prompt. Day 3 SET UP FOR FAILURE: fingerprints | wrongfully arrested| “I warned you”

Warning: This story deals with a character who is enslaved, and a who is subjected to death threats. If these are sensitive topics for you, please take this into account before reading.

Surface Agent X-20 trembled in Titan’s antechamber.

As the marine minutes dripped away and there was no command to enter the throne room, X-20’s anxiety increased. Trembling gave way to hand-wringing, hand-wringing to pacing, and pacing was joined first by hand-wringing, and then by whimpering.

Titan was like the mighty trans-ocean currents that could sweep the unwary from their homes to the distant seas. And that was to his own people. For a member of one of the other undersea races, and a slave at that, Titan was nothing less than the bringer of death.

And that death could come in myriad forms: the tortures of the lobster rack, the fire coral, the swordfish chamber, or the dreaded death of a thousand stings. Or even worse: to be set to dry.

That was part of X-20s punishment as Surface Agent: to be forced to live above the seas. Titan allowed him limited access to the life giving waters of the ocean, and the relief of times like this, summoned to the depths of the undersea world, was off-set by the torture of the fear that an audience invariably brought. Was this the time Titan was finally going to order his death?

Titan’s Surface Agents rarely liked long lives. Ordered to the dry world of the Terraneans, to act as Titan’s eyes, ears and hands among them. Most died quickly, either from drying, or discovered and killed by the Terraneans. Or executed by Titan.

X-20 had lasted longer than any other Surface Agent assigned to the Island of Lemoy, so close to Marineville and it’s submarine fleet. Not that Titan saw it like that. X-20’s plans never seemed to succeed, but he got closer to success than any others, and that fact alone kept him alive.

But there was always the risk that today was the day that Titan’s patience – as short-lived and fickle as it was – would run out.

Or that Titan would consult Teufel – his false god – and he would be condemned by the random actions of the enormous fish.

It was a more than a few marine hours before the Aquaphibian who served as Titan’s major domo gestured for him to enter the Throne Room.

Heart in his throat, and trembling like a kelp forest in a hurricane, X-20 bowed his way into the Throne Room before grovelling at Titan’s feet.

“Oh mighty Titan,” he whined, “your humble servant awaits your orders.”

Titan did not bid him rise, but that was not to be expected.

“I have given you many orders, slave,” Titan sneered. “And every time you have failed to carry them out.”

By the denizens of the deepest trenches, this was it. Titan was going to have him killed.

“Many times I have granted you the continuation of your pathetic life,” Titan continued. “But no more. Your pathetic bungling tires me. I now have the services of a new Surface Agent. One who is uniquely placed to fulfill my orders and finally destroy Marineville, Stingray, and the infernal Troy Tempest!”

He couldn’t help it, X-20 began whimpering, begging, pleading for his life … despite knowing that there was little hope of changing Titan’s mind.

“Silence, fool!” the voice thundered out, and X-20 immediately stopped speaking, his words freezing in his throat. “If I had a mind to kill you, I would not first bring you here to tell you – you would go straight to your assigned doom.”

Titan paused to accept a drink from a servant, calmly drinking as X-20 tried to calm down, to assimilate the news of his continued survival.

“However,” Titan eventually continued, “I will no longer tolerate your incompetence, or your presence. You will remain on the Island of Lemoy and follow the instructions of my new Surface Agent, and should you fail …” Titan glared … “the resources of Titanica will not be deployed to save your miserable carcass. Begone from my sight forever, miserable worm!”

X-20 bowed his way back out of the Throne Room, cringing and mumbling his thanks and praising Titan. Back in the antechamber, an Aquaphibian indicated for him to follow and led him to another room with a large communications suite, and a large container.

The Aquaphibian activated the communications suite and left the room, leaving X-20 to wait for the party on the other end to connect the call.

Finally the screen flared to life, a dark background outlining an even darker silhouette. A Terranean, by the form, and X-20 wondered at the circumstances that allowed Titan to accept working with a Terranean. He looked at the shadowed figure carefully – any information about his mysterious new boss that he could glean might be important. It was impossible to make out any distinguishing features, or gender – X-20 had trouble telling one Terranean from another, anyway. But the silhouette had familiar features, the flared ‘fins’ on the shoulders was almost as familiar to him as his own features. It was the distinctive uniform of the W.A.S.P.s – the hated denizens of Marineville, and the aggressors of numerous undersea encounters.

The voice was artificially modified, and X-20 could not determine any individual attributes. He listened carefully as his new master outlined the plan he had put in motion, and the part that X-20 was to play in it.

It was an ambitious plan, and X-20 was to gain access to the Terraneans main computer centre, and disable certain functions. The box contained a W.A.S.P. uniform, identification documents, security pass, and biomasking ‘fingerprints’ to be worn on the ends of his fingers. Who knew that Terraneans could tell each another apart by the skin patterns on their fingers?

If this disguise did not work, if the security documents did not work X-20 would be captured by the Terraneans. And if they did not kill him as a spy, he would be locked away in one of their prisons, far from the life-giving waters of the oceans.

X-20 had a bad feeling about this.

The bad feeling was justified.

X-20 sat in the small Terranean prison at Marineville, and wondered what had given him away.

The answer came sooner that expected. The leader of the W.A.S.P.s – the Terranean in the ‘hover chair’ – Commander Shore was let into the small room. He eyed X-20 with cold anger. “What have you got to say for yourself, Lieutenant?”

Lieutenant was the rank attached to the identity he had been given for this mission. X-20 did not respond.

“Did you know that the Security Guard you attacked died?”

That got a start out of X-20. Someone he had attacked? Died?

“What were you hoping to steal, Lieutenant?”

Oh. That made sense. The identity he had been given to use had attacked and killed someone. X-20 wondered if the new Surface Agent knew that. X-20 still didn't’ say anything.

“Nothing to say for yourself, eh?” Commander Shore eyed him speculatively. “How about we give you a little time to yourself to think about the answers you’re going to give us.”

He turned and motored his way back out the room, the door slamming with dismal finality behind him.

By Terranean standards, his captivity was not by definition, cruel. But Terranean standards and Terranean needs were not the same of those of the undersea races.

He was provided meals three times a day, and he was certain that, by Terranean standards, the food was wholesome and nutritious. Unfortunately it was not the same for him. And while he was given access to plentiful water to drink and bathe, the humans exclusively used fresh water, and treated it with chemicals, all of which burned at him. He was a creature of the oceans, he need the salt.

He was drying. Slowly, and painfully, he was drying.

Each day, Commander Shore came to see if he was prepared to answer the questions to which X-20 had no answers.

Each day, X-20 said nothing. Which was both easier and harder. Easier, because he had less and less strength every day. Harder because everyday the temptation to reveal his true nature and beg for his life grew.

He held his silence, because to do so would mean that Titan would go from not acting to save him, to actively trying to kill him. It was a choice of deaths, but it was X-20’s choice. Finally, here at the end, he was free to make his own choice.

X-20 awoke unexpectedly, feeling – strangely – better than he had ever since being made Surface Agent. Looking around, he discovered he was submerged in a large tank of sea-water, an examination showed that there were several small heavily protected vents that presumably led to the ocean.

One corner of the tank was generously stocked with an artificial garden of seaweed, crustaceans and fish. He fell up on the food ravenously, and once satiated, continued his examination of his surroundings. A large, clear panel was set in one wall, a small plain room with a couple of uncomfortable looking chairs was on the other side, with what looked like an open sided cargo elevator attached to one wall

As watched the door opened and Commander Shore motored in, followed by his daughter; Troy Tempest; Tempest’s companion the Terranean known as ‘Phones’ with the strange devices permanently attached to his head; the accursed Princess Marina, daughter of Aphony of Pacifica; and an unknown Terranean wearing the white clothing that designated him as a Terranean healer.

Shore the elder approached the observation panel and nodded in satisfaction when he saw X-20 watching him. He pointed at X-20 and upwards, then gestured to himself and his companions and upwards again. X-20 understood. They were all to go upwards, and probably whatever was up there, they would be able to talk.

X-20 briefly considered refusing to comply, but ultimately decided that it would be in his best interests to cooperate. For now.

Swimming upwards, he found a large platform with a short ladder attached to the wall next to it. He climbed out and stood watching from behind bars as his captors rode up to his level in the cargo elevator.

Shore motored to the bars and appraised him thoughtfully. X-20 waited.

“I’m sorry it took us so long to realise how sick you were.”

Those were not the words X-20 had expected and he stared, shocked.

“I hope you’re feeling better now?” It was a question.

“Yes, thank you. I feel much better for having been submerged in the ocean’s waters.” His voice was desiccated, harsh from his drying sickness and disuse.

Shore nodded, apparently pleased with the answer. “I trust the foods provided were to your liking. Marina indicated what species would be appropriate, but if there is something more to your taste, I’m sure we can provide it for you.”

Mutely X-20 shook his head.

Shore nodded, satisfied.

“Your disguise was very good,” Shore continued. “Almost perfect, in fact. It was only when you collapsed and the doctors tried to treat you that we discovered that you were weren’t human.”

X-20 waited.

“And your security pass, and identity documents. They were beyond perfect. There was only one way that you could have gotten those – if you were given by someone who already had access to our security system.”

X-20 waited. This was not surprising to him. He had already figured out that the new ‘Surface Agent’ was a traitor within Marineville, even though he didn’t know the Terranean’s identity.

“So it’s very strange that the identity you were using was that of a Lieutenant who is wanted for attempted theft, and murder.”

Shore sat, considering him. The moment stretched out.

“Marina here recognised you.” It was both surprising and not. Before she had been rescued, she had seen him many times as he had reported to Titan. That she had paid enough attention to him to recall him now was … unexpected.

Shore continued. “She filled us in on your history and your … circumstances.”

X-20’s heart sank. He had been hoping that the Terraneans would not discover the exact nature of his past actions. They would know what he had done to act against them. The tiny hope that he had been cautiously nurturing since waking up in the tank abruptly withered to nothing.

He was still doomed.

“I imagine quite a lot of the strange goings on around here might be attributed to your actions.”

X-20 closed his eyes. The bright light was hurting them anyway – less harsh than the sun, but still too much compared to the cool light filtered by the oceans that he was born to.

“Under ordinary circumstances, that would make you a spy.”

Ordinary circumstances? What other circumstances were there for a spy?

“But considering what Marina has told us – that Titan holds you as a slave, that failure to comply would mean your death…” Shore blew out a breath in that curious Terranean way. “Well, I think maybe we could come to an agreement.”

X-20 opened his eyes. An agreement with the Terraneans?

“What kind of agreement?” He almost said Terranean by reflex, but managed to bite the word back in time.

Shore edged closer, the front of his contraption almost touching the bars. “We’ve got a rat in the ranks,” he said. “You’ve been in contact with them. You could help us find them. Help us flush him out.”

X-20 waited. The must want more.

“You’ve been coming in and out of here almost at will. I’d appreciate–” the word had an edge to it, this part was apparently non-negotiable– “it if you would work with our security to plug these holes.”

X-20 waited. Shore continued

“Any information you could give us about Titan – what he knows about us, locations of his bases, who are his allies and enemies, his history. That kind of thing would be invaluable to us.”

“The locations of his bases,” X-20 repeated bitterly. “So you can destroy them. And destroy countless undersea dwellers in the process. You want me to help you to destroy my people. My innocent people.”

“No!” The word came from multiple voices. Shore held up a hand for silence.

“We would never – never – put innocent lives at risk. Not intentionally. If we’ve done harm, it was never our intention.”

“Does the storm intend to fling it’s victims on the rocks? They are no less dead for the lack of intent,” X-20 countered.

Shore sighed, heavily. “I take your point. We have a saying with a similar meaning: ‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions.’ But we’ve never made an intentional attack against one of Titan’s bases. Anytime we’ve fought, we’ve blundered into the situation and been fired upon first. If you work with us, we could make sure we stay away from these places. And if we need to – and this is an absolutely last resort – we could, with your information, send in a tactical strike team. Make sure there’s no collateral damage. Hell, we might even be able to avoid killing Titan’s people!”

“And this is all I get from this agreement? A maybe-stay of execution for my people?”

Shore shook his head. “No. Titan’s abandoned you. He doesn’t care if you live to get back to your station, or dies here. How much do you want to bet that if he finds out you’re still alive here at Marineville, he – or his traitor in our ranks – will try to rectify that? We’ll protect you, either way, but it’ll be in your best interests to help us. We could offer you a better quality of life. Help us, and you could stay here, or return to live under the sea, far from Titan’s influence.”

“Titan rules all the world’s oceans. There would be nowhere safe from him.” And didn’t that thought hurt. Marooned for all time on the dry land.

“Titan rules all the world’s oceans. Now. But not with the consent of many of the ruled.” X-20 knew immediately that it was Marina speaking to him, using the telepathy common among her people. With her hands she made the gestures that the Terraneans understood, translating her conversation with them.

“My father, Aphony, Ruler of Pacificia, would free his people from the tyranny of Titan, but for our long pacifism, we lack the weapons and soldiers to do so. Secretly, we stand with the World Aquanaut Security Patrol, for to do so openly now would be to invite our destruction. We provide what information we can, but it is limited. Help the W.A.S.P.s – help Pacificia – and I swear by the throne I will one day sit upon that you will always have a place of honour and refuge among the people of Pacificia.”

X-20 stared. A vow by the throne of Pacifica, made by the Princess who would one day be Queen. And not just the promise of refuge – which was a promise not lightly made, for none could truly ward against the great currents; but the promise of a place of honour. That could only mean one thing: a station – a permanent station, for life if he so chose – in the Royal Court.

This was all too much to comprehend. X-20 turned and flung himself back into the ocean water tank that was both his prison and his sanctuary.

As he dove, he heard Tempest indignantly calling out, “Hey!”

“Let him be. He has much to think about, and many emotions that pull at his heart. Let him spend time among the waters that will soothe his body and his mind. The decision that is asked of him is no small matter.”

The waters did not allow the answers given to Marina’s declaration.

“There is no hurry for you to decide. Take what time you need. If you require anything, or wish to speak with us, there is an ‘intercom’ on the wall by the ladder. Push the button and when invited, state your needs. I wish you gentle tides and bountiful harvests.”

And X-20 was alone.

It was days later, when X-20 pushed the button and asked to speak to Commander Shore. He had used the button before to request more food – he had eaten ravenously, unaccustomed to both the extravagant food supply, and inaction.

He waited anxiously, but soon the door opened and the procession – minus the healer – entered the room, as they approached, X-20 indicate the elevator and swam upwards to the platform.

There was an air of excited expectation among the Terraneans as they waited for X-20 to speak.

He took a calming breath.

And made his decision.

Notes:

I had been wanting to write something for Stingray’s 60th Anniversary this year, and as time was ticking away. Finally figured something out!

Something that doesn’t usually get commented on is Titan’s continuous addressing Surface Agent X-20 as ‘slave’, along with his threats of violence against him. The specific tortures and execution methods are lifted directly from John Theydon’s novel ‘Stingray and the Monster’ (republished by Anderson Entertainment as ‘Monster from the Deep’). Except for ‘drying’, that I shamelessly appropriated from May Gibbs’ ‘Little Obelia’ (which is most commonly found in ‘The Complete Adventures of Snugglepot and Cuddlepie’).

I know this doesn't fit the classical definition of 'Whump', but as the starting point was the Whumptober prompt, and you could argue that Surface Agent X-20's existence up to this point IS whump, never mind the psychological turmoil of a slave finding themself suddenly and unexpectedly freed of their master and making decision for themselves ... And yes, I am aware that I am clutching at straws, but they are MY straws, damnit!, and I say they count.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Stingray. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

#stingray #fanfiction #my fanfiction #whumptober 2024 #day 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE #Surface Agent X-20 #Titan #Commander Sam Shore #tw: slavery #tw: death threats

5 notes · View notes